Princess in Pink
by Sayo124
Summary: Drabbles/Oneshots/Minifics centering around YuyaKyo. Second up: Yuya is engaged to a local lord, but she wants nothing to do with it. Will she find her happily ever after or are fairy tales a lie? -warning: may contain tons 'a fluff; mostly light-hearted-
1. I: Simply a Samurai

_I know, I know, you're thinking, "oh, kami, ANOTHER fiction to clog up updates?" BUT, I am here to inform you, this is a little drabble/one-shot/ficlet/ (maybe even a mini fic that's actually a mutli-chapter thing along the way somewhere…) to unclog updates by giving me random ideas when I get writer's block and/or feel lazy… and by shit, it actually works!_

_These all will take place in the Chibi Universe unless it says otherwise at the top!_

_**Story 1**_

_**Part 1:**_** Simply a Samurai**

Occasionally, life could be incredibly boring. Not just a nothing-to-do boring, but one of those oh-God-this-is-killing-me-why-am-I-even-here boring moments.

Currently, Yuya Shiina, young princess and heir to the throne, was the latter. She scrunched her toes as she looked down at her books and slowly uncurled them. Why did she have to do this? Sure, she had to be educated to be the future ruler of her country, but . . . did she have to study up on all the martial arts techniques? She wasn't even allowed to practice them, so why tease, torment, and bore her by making her memorize them?

She much rather preferred her History lessons. They were very interesting to her and it fascinated her to read about the figures that helped shaped her country into the magnificent beauty that it was . . .

But she was too far advanced in those lessons for her age and far too behind in the study of martial arts, much to her displeasure. Every book on history had been taken away and she was forced to read this crap . . .

She sighed and flopped back onto her fluffy, thick futon. She closed her eyes and pictured herself being able to perform what she was currently studying and forbidden to do. She would love to sneak around and master these arts. Just like him . . .

There was a sharp tap at the paper door that led to her small balcony. She bolted upright in a heartbeat and stared at the sliding door. There was a hint of a shadow seeping through the thin paper and she thoroughly examined it before her heart skipped a beat.

Talk about speaking of the devil.

She hopped to her feet, tossed her books aside—secretly taking pleasure at hearing the dejected _thus_ it made as it hit the ground—and scurried over to her door, flinging it open. She nearly squealed when she saw it was who she had assumed.

Standing with his arms crossed in a huffy manner with a sword strapped to his side was her savior. He was standing sideways, the sun playing with his ebony, unruly hair and shading half of his face.

"Kyo," she breathed, beaming.

He smirked and turned to face her when he saw he had her attention. "Well, look at this new kimono. You look good in pink." His voice was slightly sarcastic, but Yuya could tell he was actually being serious.

"My, my," she mimicked, crossing her arms playfully. "Look what Kyo dragged in. That black kimono really needs an adjustment." She knew she wouldn't abash him in the least by this comment, even though he was a poor commoner and his kimono—while lovely on him—was really aging.

Kyo gave her a look. "Does someone need an attitude adjustment?"

Yuya giggled. "Nah, the only thing that needs adjusting around here is you."

Kyo gave her a half-hearted glare, blood-red eyes narrowing. "Well, then," he said and then picked her lightly up off her feet and placed her on his shoulder. "_Someone _needs a little fresh air to clean out their brain which is full of false conclusions."

"Oo," Yuya cooed, stifling another giggle as Kyo jumped over the railing and started for the trees where their private clearing was—the clearing where Yuya sat and watched as Kyo trained to be the greatest swordsman ever. "Where do you learn all these new, fancy words? 'Conclusion'? I didn't know you had it in you—Hey!" she protested as Kyo sharply veered to the left where a small lake lay nearby. "Don't you dare, Kyo! I'm not in the mood to get wet!" Despite her words, she was giggling again.

"Oh, of course fair maiden," Kyo replied in a false high-class accent. "I'm not going to get you wet"—he stopped at the bank of the small lake—"I'm going to get you _soaked_." And then he tossed her in so she landed in the deeper area.

She came up sputtering. "Kyo!" she finally cried. "You are _so_ going to pay."

"And how do you plan to do that?" he asked quite smugly from the shore since she was flapping around as she tried to get out and he was standing on firm ground, quite dry.

She pulled herself up onto the bank that turned to mud beneath her wet, dripping body and turned to face him, cheeks flushed from the excitement, and her kimono sticking to her like a second skin. Kyo's cheeks grew a small hint of pink, which went unnoticed by Yuya.

"You look like a poor, sad puppy," Kyo commented.

Yuya couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst out laughing. "Oh, yeah?" she managed through giggles.

"Yes, it's an extremely sad sight to see,_Princess_." He smirked.

It was then that this particular princess pushed a particular orphaned boy who hoped to be a samurai into the lake.

She couldn't help but burst out laughing again. Kyo, the simple samurai, always knew just what she needed and when she needed it. Her warm feelings that were more than just friendship welled up in her.

Kyo, while simply a samurai—or a future samurai—was _her _samurai.

He was _her _Kyo.

That was just how she liked it.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

_Just to let you know, I know that the real Kyo really has red hair as well as red eyes, but his Kyoshiro form makes such a better chibi! Squee! _

_And now that I've got all sorts of ideas in my head, I'm ready to write, write, write! There'll be hundreds of chapters up in the next few days, I bet! …Okay, maybe not that many… And more kawaii drabbles/ficlets/etc. will come when I'm having a hard time getting words on paper:) Or when I feel there needs to be some good ole Yuya/Kyo goodness! ;)_

_Oh, and this whole thing is titled "Princess in Pink" because, even though some of these drabbles/whatever you want to call them are little continuations of the manga, Yuya wears _pink_ and is metaphorically a princess in these. Walla. It all cornalicious (corny), but deal with it for me, okay?_

_Lotsa lub,_

_Sayo_


	2. II: My Name is Shiina Yuya

_OmG! Thanks a bunch for your support on this… project-thing. A mini plot bunny jumped into my head while I was toying around with the thought of Yuya being a princess, so it's time for my first mini-fic! It's probably only going to be four or five chapters… If that even. _

_**Story Two**_

_**Chapter 1: My Name is Shiina Yuya**_

Green eyes narrowed. "Married?" she repeated, her voice a little icy.

"Shiina Yuya. Do not talk with such a tone. It is quite unbecoming of a lady," a feminine voice smoothly replied. Her tone was calm and held no emotion.

Yuya looked over at the woman. "Mother, I do not believe this conversation involved you."

"Yuya!" another voice snapped. She looked over at the man in question with a fire in her gaze.

"What now?"

"You're show of disrespect has merely strengthened my resolve. Marriage seems to be the best option in this circumstance. You need to learn your place in this world."

Yuya bit her tongue to keep the sharp remark in. _I will not yell at my father; I will not yell at my father; I will not yell at my father…_

The man snorted. "I don't know where you received the idea that you had a choice in this matter. Did you know Sakuya was married and with her third child at your age? You really should be grateful that I held this off for as long as I did."

_I will not yell at my father; I will not yell at my father; I will not—Alright, I won't _yell_, I'll_ retort_._ So that's what she did. "I don't even _know_ him!"

She saw her mother give her a look from the corner of her eye but ignored it as her father haughtily replied. "Tokugawa Benitora is a very respectable man. You should feel honored he has such an interest in you. He is perhaps the most influential and powerful man in the area. He will take splendid care of you."

Yuya let out a very unfeminine snort. "That doesn't change the fact that I don't _know_ him," she pointed out.

"Yuya," her father sighed, exasperated. "_Please_, my daughter. For me? I want you to settle down. I want to know that you will have someone to take care of you when I pass on. I want to see you happy."

That wasn't fair. That wasn't fair in the _slightest._ He was using sentiment against her.

She didn't like it in the least.

"If I don't _know_ him, how can I _love_ him? If I can't _love _him, how can I be happy?" she argued persistently.

"Get out."

Yuya blinked and opened her mouth to ask for him to repeat the softly uttered phrase but was cut off when the man abruptly stood up from tatami mat and pointed a finger towards the exit.

"Get. Out," he growled

Yuya also scrambled to her feet and turned to leave, not even bothering with a parting bow. The moment she was out of the room and briskly walking through the fancy hall, she allowed the anger to return to her. She gave a sour look to any of the servants that tried to talk to her.

She made her way through more rooms and halls before she finally found herself outside. She kicked at a large stone, swearing when it did nothing but cause her toe to throb.

"Oh, what a sight for sore eyes."

Yuya froze mid-swear and slowly turned towards the voice, toe forgotten.

"Ah—Kyo—What are you—I thought—!"

The ebony-haired man chuckled, blood-red eyes dancing with merriment. "Yes, it's good to see you, too."

There was a pause as the stunned girl simply gawked before a dazzling smile lit her features and she stumbled forward to wrap her arms around him. "I can't believe—they said—I thought—You were—You're back!" she said, stumbling over words as she let her cheek rest against his chest. Her eyes had drifted shut so that she would _feel_ the magic the moment created in her bliss. She didn't care that it was considered inappropriate to have such an 'intimate' moment with someone—especially a male. At the moment, that was the last thing on her mind because…

Because he had returned…

After eight years—he was back. He had left to become a samurai—an actual samurai. It had been the talk of the village—a local peasant was leaving on the vow to become the strongest man alive. They said he wouldn't come back for whatever reason.

He had left with a simple good bye during the night. Somehow, that seemed to fit him just perfectly.

But he was back—!

She nuzzled her face into the material of his black kimono, very content at the moment. While Kyo didn't return the embrace, he didn't push her away.

That counted as accepting the hug, didn't it?

"Geez, dogface, you've grown even clingier over the years."

Yuya froze and shoved against the man to scowl up at him—wow, he had grown tall… "Who says you can still call me that, huh? Huh? Baka. You know _just_ how to ruin the moment, don't you? Killjoy," she grumbled.

He chuckled in response and the deep noise brought a smile to her lips again. "Anything of interest happen in my absence?"

Yuya laughed. "No, not really. Mother is still trying to get me to become The Lady of Ladies with all this manner crap and Father—" She cut off and her smile faltered. Kyo frowned at her, silently demanding she continue. She cleared her throat. "He—uh—wants me to marry this guy… Uh… I think his name was Benitora or something."

"_Tokugawa _Benitora?" Kyo's expression was hard to read. That made Yuya slightly nervous.

"Kyo?" she questioned softly.

Kyo snorted. "I think he'd be a good match," he finally said.

"Good… match?" Yuya echoed before the muscles of her mouth slackened in shock. "You're serious?"

"You're not?"

"K-_yo_! I don't _want _to marry anyone. Especially someone I have no feelings for. I never even met him. I thought you would side with me on this one. You and my father would go great together," she grumbled.

"Your father is a wise man, then, for wanting you to marry someone like Tokugawa Benitora. He's—"

"The most influential and strong man in the area. He would take _splendid _care of me," she said, repeating her father's words with sarcasm.

"—Loyal," Kyo finished. "And he's not the strongest—_I_ am."

Yuya smiled weakly. "Cocky and arrogant as ever, I see," she noted before shaking her head. "How can you also be for this? If—_if—_I marry, I'll have to move in with him and he lives a fair distance away."

"And what does this have to do with me?" Kyo crossed his arms as he stared down at her, eyes narrowed.

"Well—we wouldn't see each other," she timidly pointed out.

"How does this affect anything? I was gone for nearly eight years. We didn't see each other at all during that time."

"But- But we're _friends_, right?" Her voice held slight desperation.

"Of course we are," Kyo answered. "But I reiterate: how does that affect anything? Friends move on. They say goodbye when their life evolves. And isn't your life evolving?"

Yuya's green eyes stared up at him, crystalline tears gathering at the corners. She blinked away the stinging hotness and clenched her teeth. Her hands came up and shoved his chest hard. While it didn't do any harm in the least, it did help her frustration. "So that's it?" she asked waspishly. "You make life-long friends and then walk out on them when they no longer fit into your plans? Is that it? _Is it_?" She accented the last two words with a jab at his chest.

Kyo's expression didn't lesson in the least. "You may have physically grown, but you're still immature. You're still a dogface."

"Shut up! My name is Yuya! _Yu. Ya_. Feel free to use it," she snapped.

"Time changes many things, but you'll always be a dogface, won't you?"

Yuya was about to retort but he turned and started off again. The blonde tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but found she was unable to. "Sometimes I swear I could hate you," she whispered harshly.

* * *

Seven days passed.

Seven long, lonely days.

During those seven days, Yuya hadn't heard anything from or about the raven samurai. During those seven days, she hadn't talked to either of her parents. And during those seven days, thoughts of a married life flooded her head, leaving her nauseous.

Thoughts of kissing someone she didn't know…

Sickening.

Thoughts of having intimate nights preserved for passionate lovers…

Sickening.

Thoughts of bearing children for a complete stranger whose face she never saw…

Oh, gods, sickening.

Why did her father insist this would bring her happiness? Why was he so insistent on forcing her to do something so life-altering against her will? Why did he want her to do this? Why; why; why?

And why did Kyo have to brush her away like that? If they had been younger, he would've taken her side. He would've plotted against her father with her. He would've suggested running away; out of the reach of the world. He would've given her wings and allowed her to fly far, far away…

She silently laughed at her stupidity. Wings? Flying away? Maybe she was still the vulnerable little girl she used to be…

A knock on her door startled her out of her musings and she jerked on her bed, straightening her kimono. "Come in," she called, wishing it would be Kyo. But she knew it wouldn't be. He would never enter through her door. He would most likely come through a window, like in fairy tales.

Her father stepped in and Yuya adverted her eyes to the ceiling. She did _not_ feel like having a fight over her stupid engagement right now.

A silence formed and after several long seconds, her father broke it. "I have alerted Tokugawa-san to your wish to meet him. He agreed. He looks forward to it, even. I have decided to throw a grand party for him. The whole village is to participate and everyone is invited."

Yuya looked over at him with slight surprise in her emerald eyes as he continued.

"It will be held in two days time. You, obviously, are to attend. He'll stay leave the day after the party. And he hopes to take you with him."

Yuya glared and opened her mouth to protest and rant and rave, but her father whirled and quickly left before an argument could begin. When he was gone from her sight, she threw her face into the silk threads of her blankets and let out a cry of frustration.

_I hate my life_.

* * *

_Yay! Today is the last day of 2007! In… -looks at clock- A little over five hours it'll be 2008! Weeeeee~ I hope you the best for the New Year! (Crap… I go back to school in three days… -growl-)_

_I also hope you tell me what you think of this. :) Please review and tell me what you liked/didn't like. Also, tell me if you saw any mistakes. I am currently beta-less because my beloved torchedheaven. is temporarily gone. –sigh-_

_Once again, happy New Year!_

_Lotsa lub,_

_Sayo_


	3. II: My Father is Called Lord

_Lookies, peoples! The second part of the first minific is FINALLY up! x3 Enjoy, ne?_

_**Story 2**_

_**Chapter 2:**_ _**They Call my Father Lord**_

Yuya fingered the incredibly soft material, her eyes blank and her face grim. She pulled her hand away and offered her maid a half-hearted smile. "Please give this back to my father. Tell him I refuse to wear it."

The other girl's eyes widened considerably. "B- but he said—"

Yuya shook her head immediately and cut her off. "No, don't bother telling me what he said. Just hand it to him and tell him that I refuse."

The young maid's mouth opened and closed several times. "He'll get angry at me!" she protested.

"I don't think he will. You can just give it to my mother. Or never mind. Just keep it for yourself. No one has to know. No one… should notice." She nodded at her own logic and offered another smile.

The servant burst into tears.

Yuya sighed in both exasperation and agitation. Her day—which had already been downright shitty—just got a lot worse. "He won't get mad," she tried to soothe the young girl. "He doesn't have a reason to."

"N- Nuh- Nuh- _No!_" the servant girl wailed through her tears. "He said thuh- that if I could- couldn't get you to cooperate then—"

"What a load of bullocks," Yuya interrupted crossly, her irritation at her father merely increasing with each moment. "He won't do anything to you. Leave that here and _I'll_ give it back to him. You are dismissed to do what you're needed for."

The other girl swiped at her eyes with the back of her fist. "Very well, Yuya-sama," she obediently replied and left.

Yuya turned to glare angrily at her wall. She knew it wasn't the servant girl's fault—she had been sent by the _master_ _of the house_. Even still, Yuya felt a smidge of bitter frustration towards the girl. The elegance of the kimono had reminded her just what was taking place tomorrow evening—the party. And Tokugawa Benitora would be there.

And every minute of the 'celebration' would be a living Hell.

She knew her father expected her to be the young woman she was and put up her best 'I'm-innocent-and-would-be-the-best-wife-in-the-world' front which was exactly why Yuya planned on being a little devil. She had millions of little mental plans of untold evil. She fantasized many different scenarios where she was an absolute shrew. The Benitora Tokugawa figure was always shocked at her display of 'maturity.' And, of course, in the end Kyo came and swept her off her feet to save her from her torturers.

At the mention of Kyo, Yuya's shoulders slumped and her anger dissipated. She had desperately hoped that maybe—just maybe—some divine power would lure Kyo back so… so… _something_ would happen. She hadn't known it would feel so hopeless to lose Kyo again. Before, when he left, she had the knowledge that he would return—their friendship was worth too much. But having lost him, unsure if they would be able to make amends…

_I would apologize if I could only _see_ him,_ she thought miserably to herself as she flopped onto her back, preferring to lie down on the hard floor for once to think rather than pace around uselessly like she'd been doing.

She'd been thinking for about ten minutes—and had conjured up plans, some plausible and some silly and far-fetched—when her father announced his presence and stepped into her room. Automatically, Yuya pushed herself up so she was leaning on her hands, looking up to meet his deathly calm stare.

"Yuya, why are you not dressing yourself in the proper attire I picked for this occasion?" he inquired, more out of tradition than anything. Yuya knew that if it hadn't been appropriate to do so, he'd be forcefully dressing her himself. Her father always felt that his word was always law—because to the fellow villagers, his word _was_ law—and punished any who opposed him harshly. His family included.

"I told you, father. I'm not attending your stupid get-together. I'm not marrying some guy I don't even know. I _refuse_." Yuya had always been told—by Kyo, no less—that she wasn't allowed to 'go with the crowd.' She had to stick up for what she thought and not back down when others disagreed. Kyo also told her not to fear her father.

So she didn't—most of the time, that is.

Her father took one step towards her and instinctively, Yuya drew her legs closer to her body in case she needed to spring to her feet. Her father had only hit her a few times, but each blow had done some serious damage.

"You will get dressed, you will go to your engagement party, and you will get married. There is no alternative." His tone backed up his words. "And if you don't, so help you, I'll dress you myself. I will not tolerate your childish behavior, do you understand? Everyone must be married. Your cousin—who's _three years younger_ than you—is already married _and_ with child."

And Yuya, not being able to keep her retorts in (he had the _gall_ to use the phrase 'engagement party,' even!), stuck out her chin and proclaimed, "Well, I'm not a whore like she is. It's that simp—"

And in that moment, there was a _CRACK_ that came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Yuya blinked in surprise, trying to figure out where it came from. Only when a hot, liquid-fire spread up from her left elbow did she figure that her father had slapped her. She looked down at the appendage mutely, awed to silence, and watched as it turned a violent redish purple. The hot pain slowly turned to a frigid, cold pin-and-needles sensation before she lost all feeling in that part of her arm.

"I told you, Yuya, there is no other alternative. You're to be married tomorrow and leave with Tokugawa-san. He plans to ask you to marry him tonight after the party. You will agree. Do you understand?"

Yuya continued to look mutely at her arm, still caught off-guard that he had hit her. Sure, he had hit her before, but as earlier stated, he rarely did it. She could count the times he touched her on one hand. And she wouldn't even need to use all of her fingers.

Her father took her silence to mean she was consenting—and Yuya herself couldn't even tell if she was or not. She felt too numb to decide. When he spoke again, his tone had softened considerably as he pulled out a beautifully crafted box—the same one the young servant girl had been carrying around earlier—and rumbled, "This is your kimono. Your mother picked it out specifically for tonight. Wear it and make me proud to be your father. I know you don't want to do this, but Tokugawa is a good man. You'll see so yourself tonight."

With those as his parting words, he placed the box on the floor and turned, leaving the room as easily as he had come.

And Yuya, still not sure what she was going to do, opened the box and untied the obi she was sporting. The layers of her yukata slid open, the material skating down her slumped shoulders. She felt herself coming undone, just like her robes had fallen apart so easily once the one thing that kept it together had been yanked away.

She still needed Kyo.

* * *

"You look positively beautiful. This right here"—her mother lifted a hand to touch Yuya's cheek affectionately—"is the proud girl I've raised my daughter to be."

For some reason, Yuya had a hard time believing that. She felt so utterly dead inside, it was a wonder she didn't look like a robot on the out. She felt none of the pride her mother claimed she did. Only a flaccid anger filled her. It was smudged by her lack of enthusiasm, but it still lurked in the back of her mind, swirling around, waiting for the moment she would snap back to reality.

"Thanks," she slurred.

Her mother frowned at her lack of ardor. "You poor thing, you probably haven't slept properly in days," she replied, excusing the obvious with false observations. "Are you feeling okay?"

No.

"Yes," she answered mechanically.

The hand that was on her cheek slowly ran up to her forehead. "Do you have a fever?" the older woman fretted.

No.

"Yes," she mumbled, not caring if it was the truth or not.

"Well… anyway. We better head outside, everything's set up and waiting."

No. I don't want to.

"Okay."

And they headed out. Almost immediately as Yuya stepped into the humid, late-spring-early-summer air, Yuya stopped. There were _so_ many people. Sure, she knew the entire village had been invited, but for some reason, she hadn't expected everyone to come. Almost immediately after thinking that, she remembered that she was one of the only people who ever disobeyed her father.

"_She's not pretty enough for Tokugawa-sama!!…_"

The whispered critique was something she wasn't supposed to hear, she was sure, but that didn't stop it from happening. She wasn't really bothered by it since she would've readily agreed with them if it meant getting out of a forced marriage. She found it humorous that his name was said in a way that deemed it worthy of extra punctuation, though…

"_Why is her hair _blonde_? She probably isn't even native._"

"_Know what my father told me? He said that girls like her, with their 'luscious locks,' have a habit of whoring themselves out…_"

"_And she has the gall to marry Tokugawa-sama!!—the nerve!_"

Yuya couldn't help but tug a lock of her silken hair down into her view to silently inspect it. As a child, she had heard ridicule of the same kind, only on a smaller scale. The severity of the gossip had grown prodigiously over the few years that she spent basically locked away in her room.

"_Did you hear she had a lover_?"

Stop listening to it if it bugs you.

"Did you say something, Yuya?" her mother queried, glancing in her direction for a quick second.

"No," was her monotonous reply. Had that been out loud? She couldn't tell what was thoughts and what was dialogue anymore…

"Well, alright… I'm going to go over and find your father. He's supposed to announce the arrival of your betrothed soon." Her mother flittered away into the crowd, disappearing in the throngs of color, and with the silence, Yuya found herself hearing more of the conversations around her.

"_She had a _lover_?!_"

"_Shhhh—idiot, she might hear. Yes, she had a lover. I think his name is Kyo—remember him? He used to—_"

"_No! Kyo? I knew him—he used to run around with her when they were little. They are—er… were just friends._"

"_Will you stop interrupting me? I'm _trying_ to tell you that…_"

Kyo? Was he there? Yuya perked up enough to look around. When she didn't see her red-eyed friend, she deflated again.

Was he still mad at her? 

"Tokugawa-sama's arrived!"

Though no one was quite sure where the proclamation came from, the result was the same. Immediately, there was animated, stage-whispered chatter—was he going to be as handsome as he was rumored to be? After the excitement starting to wear off, the crowd fell into a deathly silence. People craned their neck. Children stood up on tip-toes. The smarter ones took turns standing on another's back. Everyone started cramming their way in one direction—that was how Yuya figured out from which way the butt-face monkey (AKA her 'betrothed') was coming from.

She lingered in the back, staying away as long as possible. Due to the eerie quiet, she could vaguely hear two male voices conversing—her father welcoming the wonderfully awesome Tokugawa-sama!! (yes, those exclamation points were now a permanent part of his name), and the butt-face monkey himself humbly accepting the daughter of the rich lord for matrimony…

Pah.

Don't marry him.

"I don't want to," she mumbled in response. Or maybe she said the first thing… or maybe both…

Yuya shook her head to clear it. She wasn't sure what she was doing at _all _any—

"—Yuya! It would bring me great dignity to personally introduce you to Tokugawa-san."

Despite the fact that she hadn't heard the beginning of her father's call, she knew from his tone that the phrase 'I'm not quite sure why you weren't here to _begin_ with since you should've been with me the whole time' was hidden behind his words. Only he could have a longer secret meaning than what was actually said.

At first, she didn't want to move. She wanted to use the fact that his voice was severely muffled from the distance between them as an excuse to not go up, but by the time she thought of that, she was walking up the pathway that had been created by the crowd for her. Yuya stopped next to her father and gave him a contemptuous look before turning her attention to—

Holy shit. His hair was purple. Or pink. Either way, it wasn't normal in the slight—

Why was he wearing a bandanna?

"Yuya-chan, please give your warmest welcome to Tokugawa-sama," her father rumbled from behind her.

Yuya stared glumly at the young man before her for several more seconds before whispering, "You're a lot younger than I thought you'd be."

The audience towards the front let out an affronted gasp at her audacity to say such a thing. Murmurs flooded throughout the crowd rapidly. It wasn't long before everyone knew what the girl had actually _said_ to Tokugawa-sama!! Her father bristled behind her, eyes widening horrifically, an apology on the tip of his tongue, no doubt.

Tokugawa Benitora, however, tilted his head back and laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

What's so damn funny, buddy?

Finally, Benitora—he no longer required the title of Tokugawa-sama!!, he was nothing but a scrawny brat who wanted a sexy girl in Yuya's opinion from that point on—turned his attention back to Yuya and rubbed the heel of his palm against his eyes to wipe away the tears that had formed from his acidulous cackle.

And before her father could utter out an apology, Benitora joyously cried, "God, Yuya, I think I love you already!"

* * *

_Phew. I was going to keep on going, but then I remembered that this is a minific and thus the chapters are short. But there ya have it: part two. What'd'ya think?_

_I, myself, found it to be… er… weird. And no, some of Yuya's "thoughts" aren't italicized because for all she knows, she's actually saying it. Meh. It's weird, I know. And know that this might not be updated regularly. I work on this to rid myself of writers' block since this is so simple and easy to write._

_Thank you and that is all. :D_

_Review, please! _


	4. II: He is Benitora

_I liiiiiiiiiive! Yes, finally, I'm back kicking and screaming. Enjoy the latest installment!_

_**Story 2**_

_**Chapter 3: He is Benitora (But I Call Him Butt-Face Monkey)**_

So apparently touching her face was addicting. Seriously. Or something. In any case, Yuya was two and a half seconds away from batting not-so-kindly at Tokugawa Benitora's hand. Ever since the festival had ended and the two of them had returned back to the main house and her father had left them alone to 'better acquaint themselves' more than an hour ago, Benitora's hands had traced out Yuya's entire face, fingers mimicking the curious exploring that blind men used.

Benitora was not blind, and he could very plainly see her face.

And ever since her father and their servants had left their presence, Benitora had not shut up once. There had not been a pause in the word flow that spewed from his lips. Though most girls fawned over cliché praise and romantic gestures and Yuya herself often enjoyed such things, for some reason Benitora's actions and words merely annoyed the hell out of her.

"Has anyone told you that you have the most unusual hair?"

Her lips twitched up in a tight smile. "I've been told on occasion that my hair is… quite an anomaly."

"_I bet you're not even related to your father. You don't even look like him."_

"_Why is your hair so bright? Did your mother have an affair with a strange foreigner?"_

"_You aren't normal!_

An anomaly indeed. She had often been critiqued about her golden hair and green eyes. It had all been a double-edged sword, said with a stinging bite, the words slicing deep into her and leaving open, bleeding sores. Her only praise—

"_Green and gold go well together. It makes you _almost_ look pretty. Dogface."_

—had, of course, come from Kyo.

At the thought of the raven haired samurai, Yuya's heart skittered and darkened, creating a cold, painful knot in her chest. Tears sank their razor-sharp incisors into her eyes.

"It's lovely," Benitora assured. It was then that Yuya realized that he was getting closer, hand outstretched. She wanted to flinch away when his fingers tangled into her soft locks and gently finger combed them. "Lovely," he breathed again, drawing closer again.

Yuya's breath froze in her throat when his lips lingered barely an inch in front of hers, growing closer by the second. As his fiancée, she had no right to pull away. But as Shiina Yuya she had every right to jerk away and give him a verbal smack down.

"Lord Tokugawa, Lady Shiina, I beg your forgiveness for the intrusion, but Lord Shiina asked me to request your presence in the dining area. The late night tea is ready." With her message delivered, the servant politely bowed and slipped out as quietly as she had come in.

Benitora hesitated, torn, before giving up his original intention and delivering a feather-light kiss to Yuya's forehead, his fingers playfully ruffling her hair.

Yuya's eyes shifted to the small window, the pattern of the silver rays of the moon casting dark shadows that danced through the frame. After a few seconds, she allowed a single salty droplet to dance down her cheek.

_I love him_, she realized, and for a moment, her heavy heart fluttered with life.

She stood and went to where Benitora stood waiting for her.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The ribbon was pulled loose with a silky whisper. Warm hair spilled across her shoulders and tumbled down her back. Moonlight reflected off her milky skin, creating silver highlights.

Slowly, mechanically, she undid the cords and bows that were bound around her waste. In a quarter of the time that it took to put it on, Yuya took her fancy kimono off.

"_I see no trouble when I say this. You're a fine man, Benitora-sama, and I trust you completely with the future of my daughter. The wedding is to take place tomorrow evening, right before sunset, so that the sun may set on your past lives and rise on your life together."_

Her father was more than ecstatic with Tokugawa Benitora, needless to say. The man had good looks, a prestigious background, an abundance of wealth, and some of the finest manners. Yuya knew that, considering all the odds, she was extremely lucky when it came to her spouse to be. Some woman had to deal with beastly and ghastly men their whole life.

But still, she wasn't in the least bit happy.

Yuya stepped out of the nest of fold and fabrics and picked up her kimono. Usually a servant would help her undress but she had dismissed her servants as soon as she returned to her room after dinner. She had no desire to be around other people.

She was about to change out of her undergarments when she heard it—a rustle of leaves, a gentle scratch from outside. From the corner of her eye, she saw the tree outside her window tremble abnormally against the wind.

Clutching her clothes to her, she slinked to the open window and discreetly peered out. Seeing nothing, she hesitantly leaned out to look about.

"I know someone's out there!" she called, angry at the thought of someone spying on her—_especially _when she was undressing. "Come out now or I'll make sure you'll regret it so much more later."

Nothing stirred further. The foliage danced and waved in the gentle, late-night breeze.

Pursing her lips, both angry at the possible peeping tom and embarrassed at the possibility that she had just freaked out about nothing, she closed her window tightly and resumed her dressing process.

It was when she was laying down for the night, trying to fall asleep, that the vicious feelings rioting inside her quieted enough for a small, persistent pain to start flooding her chest.

Razor-sharp teeth nibbled the back of her eyes as she mumbled in a tone that was a cross-over of a whimper and a whisper: "Where are you?"

When she finally fell asleep, her dreams were flooded with Kyo.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Laughter jittered all around. Warm, welcoming scents were being burned somewhere. There was the pleasant smell of sake and snacks mingling with the incense creating what would normally be a pleasant smell—a smell of a party.

To Yuya, it was merely sickening. It gave her a dull headache and she wanted nothing more than to lock herself in her room. However, her father said that she was to have the party whether or not she liked it.

Her headache was thickening. Desperate for fresh air, Yuya started for the outside world, hoping it would help calm her nerves.

"Benitora-sama has to be crazy to like someone like _you,_" a woman said. She had a slender, elegant face and had a natural cutesy look to her.

"I'm sure a lot of people think that," Yuya responded with a chipper smile. "And I'm one of them."

With no further comment, she sidestepped the woman. Mid-morning air felt refreshing in her lungs. The sun shined down on her and illuminated her liquid gold tresses. Enjoying the temperate atmosphere, Yuya perched a seat under a nearby tree, her back against the trunk. She sat so that she couldn't see the party that she was happily missing. The faint chitter-chatter of the women that had been invited was a dull background noise.

She relaxed against the tree, deciding that she didn't care if her expensive kimono got grass stains. It was perhaps her not-so-great mood that inspired those feelings. She had been sitting there for several peaceful moments when she felt it.

The tree moved.

To be precise, it jerked and then the thin trunk trembled—like someone had jumped out of it. Swallowing a shriek, Yuya scrambled onto her knees and then her feet, heart fluttering as fast as the wings of a hummingbird.

"Who's out there?" she called demandingly, anger washing over her at the thought that it might be the very same person that she had heard the night before. "Answer me!" With each word that left her mouth, the pool of irritation that swirled in her chest grew hotter.

But, like the night prior, nothing stirred. The trees swayed with the wind patterns. Everything was so natural it almost seemed unnatural, like it was mocking her paranoia.

_But it's not paranoia,_ she seethed. _I _felt_ it that time. I'm sure—_

"Come _out!_" she shrieked, more frustrated than annoyed by that point. "Get your damn—"

Her cry was immediately cut off by firm, warm flesh. Alarmed, Yuya impulsively latched onto whatever it was that had a hold of her. She discovered slim, muscular fingers that were attached to a hand. A muscular hand.

More curious than scared, she tilted her head so that she could get a look at the person that had snuck up on her. The warm hand slipped away from her face when she moved and settled on her shoulder and collar bone.

She nearly choked.

"_Kyo?_" Eyes widening, she whirled and wrapped her arms around her samurai's torso. His heartbeat was a beautiful tune beneath her ear.

He pushed her away gently rather than return the sentimental embrace. "You shouldn't go around latching onto men," he informed her almost coldly. "You're engaged now, remember?"

Yuya gave him a disbelieving look. "You still think that I should get married," she murmured dishearteningly.

"Dog Breath, he's _Tokugawa Benitora_. He's the only man in this world who could even come close to deserving you," Kyo growled impatiently.

Green eyes flooded. Yuya stared up at Kyo with incomprehension. His harsh tones and heartless words stung her deep. "Why do you want me to do this?" she whispered, voice cracking. "Just… why?"

"You need to marry someone," Kyo said shortly. "And if it's not him, it may be someone a lot worse."

When Yuya blinked, her vision blurred and something sharp and hot ate away at the back of her bottom eyelid. "What if I don't want it to be him?"

Red eyes looked at her levelly. "This is no time to be making demands. He's better than—"

"And what if I know who I want it to be?" Yuya interrupted softly. "What if I love someone? What am I supposed to do then?"

Kyo's hard expression softened. "Is that what's bothering you?"

Her bottom lip started trembling as his answer.

And then he shook his head, ebony locks trembling with his movement. "But who could you really love, Yuya? You spend all your time in your room and barely go out. The only people you know are your servants and family. And no matter your feelings for servants, your father would not permit you—"

Yuya grabbed the hand that was still on her shoulder and gently moved it so that it lay on her chest, roughly above her heart. Her emerald eyes stared unrelentingly into his crimson. She trembled as she silently told him what she was afraid to aloud.

Kyo didn't speak. He didn't move. He didn't even blink. Then his expression hardened and Yuya, fearful of what he may say—his words always hurt her more than anything else—closed her eyes. She tried to block everything out. But he didn't beat her down verbally.

When she had closed her eyes, a small dewdrop had slid out of each of her eyes, leaving a warm trail in their wake as they shivered down her cheeks. They crested her cheeks when Kyo's fingers gently brushed them away.

Yuya's eyelids fluttered open. Kyo's expression was completely unreadable—completely void of emotions. Desperately, with the last of her courage, she breathed her plea, "Please. _Please_, Kyo. I… I… Take me away with you? I—I love you."

His fingers found her hair and twirled a strand for a moment. Then Kyo pulled free of her tresses and ran a hand down her cheek, almost experimentally. His thumb brushed across her lips and Yuya's heart skittered in her chest. His other hand slid down her neck, over the dip and swell of her collar bone, and stopped over her singing heart.

His reply, a mere word, almost echoed in her head.

"No."

He left as silently and completely as he had appeared.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

_This story has gotten waaaay too serious. O.o What ever happened to the light-heartedness? This has gotten a little out of hand, no? XD In any case, I do believe that there is only one more installment before the second part is complete. Hoo-rah!_

_Shout out to Jennipher-san for once again editing. :) _

_Review, please?_


	5. II: My Name is Yuya

_**Story 2**_

_**Chapter 4: My Name is Yuya (but it might as well be Dogface)**_

"You look gorgeous."

She stared at her mother, wondering how someone else could be so happy and carry so much energy when she felt like all of the strings that held her together were being untangled, one by one, as she slowly but surely crumbling into nothing. Instead of replying, Yuya stared at her reflection. She didn't know the woman that was staring back at her. Her golden hair was tied up elegantly. Her kimono complemented her shape and features. Makeup colored her face.

She felt like a doll.

She was no longer Shiina Yuya. She had become an inanimate object that others dressed; something that had no mind of her own. She was told how to move, craftily maneuvered by her father—the grand puppeteer—on strings that she couldn't see, she was told what to say, how to react. The only thing that she wasn't told how to do was keep living, pretending that she could be someone that she wasn't.

"Yuya? My dear, you look pale," her mother fretted, placing a cool hand to her forehead. "Are you feeling ill?" Her mother looked her in the eye. Misery reflected back at her, a hideous abyss that made something catch in her throat. "Excited," she eventually managed to explain to herself. "You're merely excited. There's nothing to fret." Despite her own advice, her voice wobbled like a young child as they take their first steps. "I'll give you some time to yourself. I'm sure you have much to reflect over." She kissed Yuya's forehead and whispered, "Do whatever makes you happy."

Then she slipped out of Yuya's room.

Yuya, in turn, sank to her knees. She stared at the ground in front of her, her brilliant emerald eyes misting over. From the corner of her eye, something twitched outside. Her head snapped over to look out the window. She sniffed and wiped away her crystalline tears, only to have more slip out of her eyes.

"Hello?" she called. "I know someone's out there." Rather than grow angry again that someone may have been peeking in on her, she remained almost apathetic as she made her way to the window and peered out.

Once more, something twitched in the corner of her eyes. She looked over and closely examined where she thought she saw something, but nothing was suspicious. But she was so sure she had seen…

When she turned around, giving up on her possible peeping tom, she saw a single red rose lying on the table in her room. Her breath hitched in her throat. She knew the only person who could slip in and out of her room so easily…

Determination burned in her bones and bubbled in her blood. She walked over to her table with a purpose and pulled out a simple scroll and a brush. She dipped the bristles in ink and carefully wrote a short and simple note. She allowed it to dry as she untied the cords to her much-too-fancy kimono and pulled it off. As she took the weight of the heavy material off of her shoulders, something else—something intangible—left with it. She could breathe easier as she pulled on a lighter kimono, slipped her feet into her sandals. She tore her hair down, shaking all of the elegance from it with a toss of her head, and pulled it back, tying it with a ribbon. She scrubbed the strange, beautiful woman off of her face, peeling the thick layer off, revealing the exhilarating young girl that lay beneath the thick layers of paint.

Taking nothing with her except the clothes she was wearing, she rolled up the scroll and lightly padded out of her room.

Silently, she bid goodbye.

* * *

Benitora tried to insist that it needn't be a huge wedding. Yuya's father, being a stubborn one, would hear none of it.

"It's for the uniting of my daughter to the most powerful man in the country!" he exclaimed in explanation. "You can't expect me to invite anyone who is able to walk and tell those who can't to have someone who can carry them."

Benitora smiled at his attempt at a joke. "This is true, and I am thrilled to have so many witness such a beautiful ceremony, but—do you think Yuya would like—"

"Tokugawa-sama." A woman came up to him and bowed. "This is for you. May you and your bride have a long and prosperous marriage." She offered him a gift without straightening herself, choosing instead to stay in her humble position.

"Thank you," he murmured to her, taking the wrapped package.

She stood and walked away, eyes trained to the ground. When she was out of sight, Lord Shiina beamed. "Everybody is pleased with this wonderful match. Yuya should be so grateful for how many of her people are willing to bless your marriage."

Benitora hummed in agreement, but for some reason he found his eyes straying over to the Shiina estate, to Yuya's window, so that he could perhaps glimpse her face.

Her window was dark, and tightly shut.

It was then that Benitora knew something wasn't right.

* * *

Yuya's feet pounded on the ground, air harshly attacking her throat with her erratic breathing, as she ran. She was searching. Looking for the one person—the _only_ person—who could bring her true happiness.

Stubborn determination kept her going, despite that her legs had long ago turned to rubber from exhaustion. Her heart beat with exhilaration, driving her on even though she knew there was a chance that all her attempts could be in vain. Sharp, acidic-hot tears prickled at the backs of her eyes, something deep inside of her reminding her not to forget her recent heartbreak, to remember that there was a chance she would be left heartbroken once more.

And yet, a voice deeper down inside of her whispered to keep going—keep going, keep going.

If she did not find what she was looking for, it would be swept away, far out of her reach, gone somewhere where she could not return, especially if she was shackled to a castle and riches, chained tightly to another man with chains. And even though she would have money enough to have these chains made from gold, encrusted with glimmering gems, she would be chained nonetheless.

_Keep going,_ she told herself, her heart humming in her chest, fluttering faster than the gentle wings of a hummingbird blurred by flight.

_Keep going,_ she chanted madly, heart ready to burst, legs ready to crumble beneath her.

_Keep going—!_

* * *

Benitora kneeled in silence, reflective. The gentle strum of the koto filtrated the air, adding a romantic touch to the atmosphere. Lord Shiina entered the small sanctuary, bowing, and sat across from Benitora. A small priest chanted softly as he set two cups and a bottle between the two men. To Benitora's left sat Madara, the closest thing he had to family. She had been with him through thick and thin, and he cherished their friendship. Next to Yuya's father was her mother, head inclined, eyes closed in meditation.

They were all, of course, waiting for the bride to join them.

Beyond the small wooden temple, the town loomed, waiting for the young couple—Yuya and Benitora—to be joined by the binding power of marriage. They stood far enough from the hut that nothing could be heard—privacy was key in marriages—but close enough that they would be able to congratulate the two when they left after the ceremony had come to a close.

It was then, of course, that the throng saw a small girl, no older than fourteen, scurry across the courtyard, slamming open the sliding door, leaning against it for support as she gained her breath. Curious, the crowd exchanged glances, murmuring.

Inside, the young woman's chest heaved as struggled to speak. "Shii—Shiina-sama—s- she—"

"Where is my daughter?" Lord Shiina cut her off abruptly, his tone brusque.

"She's trying to tell us, dear," Lady Shiina soothed gently, taking his hand.

The young servant bowed suddenly, deciding to report the news from the humble position. "She is gone, my Lord," she finally managed. "We have looked everywhere for her, but she is no where to be found. We did, however, find the beautiful kimono Shiina-sama so kindly bought for her on the floor in her room—"

"Enough!" Yuya's father cut her off harshly. "That will do." He stood, anger crackling in his eyes. "She has run away." His dark, venomous eyes settled on his wife, as though she were fully to blame. "She has run away and shamed the family!" he snarled, storming out, intending to hunt her down and drag her back by force.

Lady Shiina's eyes immediately fell to the ground, a tumult of emotions crashing around behind her beautiful, bright eyes.

Next to Benitora—who was speechless from shock—Madara's hand sought out her dear friend's, the man she cared most for, entwined her fingers with his, watched with waves of agony as his heart cracked.

* * *

When she tripped over a stone and tumbled onto her face most ungraciously, Yuya knew that she had not managed to outrun irony. She had tripped over the same rock which had tripped her up when her emotional roller coaster had begun days ago, back to the day Kyo had come back from his travels.

Breathing heavily, Yuya pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. She was shaking so badly with exertion that she was almost vibrating.

"You're a sight for sore eyes."

Her breath caught in her throat and she dared not wish, not even pray, not even hope that he would be there. She didn't think she'd be able to stand her disappointment.

But she was not disappointed. He stood there, casually leaning against the trunk of a tree, the shade falling over him, blanketing him in darkness.

Suddenly, Yuya wasn't so tired anymore.

"Kyo," she breathed, her very soul entwined with the word. With more grace than she had ever possessed, she was instantly on her feet, instantly dashing to him, arms outspread in front of her, a silent plea for him to sew himself back into the proper place in her heart after he had ripped himself out so harshly only days before.

She collided into him, melting into him, trying to mold herself into him so that they would be the same being, never being capable of being separated ever again. She had lost him before to his long journey away from her as he made his name as a samurai. She was not going to lose him again. _Never,_ she assured herself as she continued to try and fit the curves and contours of their bodies together like puzzle pieces.

His arms had settled at his sides. Almost hesitantly, he lifted one and used an index finger to lift her face so that he could look her in the eye. Her brilliant emerald orbs were brimmed with tears, dammed back only by sheer determination not to cry.

Kyo's blood-red eyes flicked back in the direction of Tokugawa Benitora, of her woeful mother, her enraged father, her abandoned room with its damning elegance. "Is this what you want?"

_Is this what you want?_ He was asking her if she was willing to sacrifice what he had tried to hard to give her when he had refused her love—a better husband, wealth, a gentle husband who would cherish her in gentle ways that Kyo didn't know how to, in ways that he had no experience in.

His eyes flickered back down to meet hers and the dam completely shattered, tears slipping down her cheeks as she nodded vigorously, words failing her.

Kyo, in response, dipped his head down to plant a chaste kiss on the first tear which had made its way over the rise of her cheek. Yuya's eyes fluttered and she moved toward the contact, her heart flurrying back into its hummingbird dance, despite the fact that she had already shed her exhaustion.

_When,_ she wondered idly, _did he become my reason to live?_

Warm hands gently looped around her as he pulled her closer, his forehead resting on the golden hair of the crown of her head. Yuya tilted her head up, kissed his strong jaw, trailed feather-soft kisses to his cheek, a reflected image of when he had caught her first tear.

Just like that, he unwove them, the separation almost feeling like they were being ripped apart.

"You're sure this is what you want, Dogface?" Kyo asked again, tacking on the endearment with a gentle smirk.

"My name is _Shiina Yuya_," she retaliated out of habit, despite the fact that her heart wasn't in the retort.

"Dogface," Kyo repeated, amusement crackling in his eyes.

Yuya rolled her eyes, smiling, shaking her head. "Only you," she murmured, "may call me Dogface. But only on special occasions."

"Is this not a special occasion?"

In response, Yuya took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. "It is," she breathed.

And so, a reputable samurai and a young woman dressed in clothes that could match a peasant or a servant left their hometown, ending the first chapter of their lives.

Silently, they bid farewell.

* * *

It was Benitora who found the letter. It was rolled up, carefully tucked under the blanket of Yuya's bedding. He had been going through what his bride had left behind, wondering if she had thought of him as she fled the life that her father had meticulously built for her. After he read it, he sighed, eyes closing.

"What's wrong?"

He turned to Madara. Madara, who had not left his side for a single second since he had been so badly wounded; it was Madara who would heal him, seal the cracks of his heart.

"Nothing," he answered, rolling the scroll up.

Her eyes flicked to the paper. "What's that?"

"Nothin' much," he murmured, tucking it back where he found it.

"Ah, I see," she replied, though she did not.

"Well, I guess we better head home, eh?"

Madara smiled. "That would be good."

With that, they left.

Silently, he bid farewell.

* * *

_I had to let go. And so I bid you a silent farewell. I know you will remain angry at me, and this is okay. Because I have him. Because I will be with him. Because we will have each other. It's all I want. I have no words that can console the range of your emotions. And so, I will go and search for them. With him._

_Shiina Yuya._

* * *

_The end._

_I know, I know, it's so full of fluff and lovey-dovey ooey-gooey sap that it's sickening. Really, it is. I'm not a believer in happy endings, but, hey, what's the harm in writing one every now and then? Fluff fills pillows. Without pillows, Sayo would wake up cranky. No one wants a cranky Sayo. D:_

_As a side note, I don't know when the next short story will be published as I don't know what the next story is. As such, I'm going to encourage you to drop me some plot bunnies and ideas. I'm not guaranteeing that yours will be the one I use, but it certainly will get the bunnies hoppin' in my head. But even then, I still can't tell you when the next update will be. At the moment, I'm shifting my main focus to Fallen for You. So drop by and check out that story?_

_(And once more, thanks to the lovely Jennipher-sama for editing. Her input is mucho helpful.)_

_As always, review, my dears._

_Lotsa lub,_

_  
Sayo_


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